


Fleeting Freedom

by lingeringdust



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lingeringdust/pseuds/lingeringdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sun lingers in Nomi's body a little longer than usual. </p><p>For ladiesbingo (wild card - body swap).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleeting Freedom

Another one of those out-of-body experiences, Sun realizes as soon as the sun hits her face through the blinds of the window. She squints, tries to get used to the sudden light after so many hours of darkness.

She’s supposed to be asleep -- but then again, the girl whose body she’s inhabiting had just been sleeping.

A dark skinned woman lays next to her, head tucked tightly into the crook of Sun’s neck. Her long locs are tied together near the top of her head; the colorful strands capture Sun’s attention.

She listens to the woman -- Amanita -- breathe, softly, deeply, and waits patiently to be pulled back to Seoul.

Only, nothing happens. 

Curious, she shifts and looks around. Is there something wrong? Is someone in danger? Does she need to fight? 

But everything seems calm, quiet, still. Except for the woman now shifting in her sleep.

“Nomi?” Amanita mumbles.

Sun wants to say yes, wants to say no. Isn’t sure what she wants. She settles for silence.

Amanita rolls her neck, stretches her arms around Sun (Nomi, Sun tells herself), and pulls herself close to the other woman.

“You’re up early,” Amanita says, a lazy smile curling at the ends of her mouth.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sun says, which wasn’t exactly a lie since she had been tossing and turning in the dark for hours before finding herself in San Francisco. 

Amanita chuckles.

“How about some breakfast?” she asks, pulling herself away. Sun has a moment of sadness at the sudden loss of warmth and then the blanket rolls off her body and Sun averts her eyes, away from the shared intimacy that she was invading. 

“I’ll make omelets!” Amanita’s sing song voice follows her out their bedroom door, disappearing, presumably, into the kitchen.

Sun looks around, eyes immediately finding the dresser. There should be some clothes there -- she thinks -- and lets the blankets fall away from her own naked body. (Not hers, Sun reminds herself, Nomi’s). 

Finding clothes isn’t too bad; she finds some t-shirts and shorts that fit and since it sounded like Nomi often shared clothes with Amanita, wearing Amanita’s clothes wouldn’t arouse suspicion anyway.

She makes her way to the kitchen, where there’s already a mouth-watering smell wafting through the air.

“Smells good,” Sun says.

Amanita grins. “Thanks!” she says cheerfully and flips over the omelette.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Amanita says, over breakfast, once they’ve begun devouring their omelettes and orange juice. She eyes Sun over her glass of orange juice.

Sun stops, places her fork back on the table as gently as possible, and looks back up at Amanita, mind searching for what Nomi has told Amanita.

“I’m not Nomi,” she says.

“Who are you then?” 

“Sun,” she pauses. “I’m from Seoul.”

Amanita nods. “How long have you been here?”

Sun blinks. “A few minutes before you woke.”

Amanita frowns. “That’s -- that’s longer than usual, isn’t it? And usually you two will, like, switch back and forth, right? So why isn’t this happening this time?”

“I’m not sure.”

Sun picks the fork up again, plays with it, pokes and prods at her food. Then:

“Can we go outside?” Sun asks.

Amanita blinks.

“Sure,” she says, points a fork at her. “But we’re going to figure this out.”

*

It’s a beautiful summer day in San Francisco and being outside was --

Sun takes a deep breath, inhales the scent of freshly mowed grass, the lingering smell of coffee in the air from a nearby cafe, and the air of something that is undeniably San Francisco. 

“Yeah?” Amanita says, grinning.

“Yes,” Sun says, returns the grin. Without thinking, Nomi’s body reaches out for Amanita’s hand and Amanita responds, hand gripping tight, not wanting to let go, as if afraid to let go.

They wander through the streets of San Francisco; Amanita lets Sun take the lead, peering through the windows of shops she was interested in and diverging from the sidewalk whenever the Korean woman felt like. Every so often, Amanita would glance at Sun, eyebrow raised, as if she was silently wondering if it was Sun or Nomi.

And Sun would shake her head.

“No,” she would say. “I’m sorry.”

The hand gripping tight around Sun’s tells her that Amanita is worried, but Amanita keeps her concerns held tight against her chest, curled protectively underneath clenched fists and a grinning tour guide facade.

“You’re not worried?” Sun asks, when they sit for lunch.

“Of course I’m worried,” Amanita admits, fiddles with the iced latte cradled between her hands. “But this has happened before, right? She’ll be back.”

Sun smiles.

*

Afterwards, when they head back towards the apartment, hand in hand, Sun feels a sort of weightlessness in her chest. Their joined hands reminds her to keep walking, foot in front of the other, but her head is in clouds.

When she looks over at Amanita, a surge of feelings -- love, protectiveness, gratefulness, trust -- they all spill from her body, eeking out without any signs of stopping. Nomi, she realizes --

\-- and when Sun blinks, it’s dark again, and she lying down, eyes staring straight at the ceiling of her cell.


End file.
